


TopDown1967

by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)



Series: PSon Fluff Bingo [5]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: (or at least they THINK they are), Age Difference, Anonymity, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Online Dating, PSon Fluff Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys
Summary: Malcolm sets up a first meeting with a new dom on the recommendation of an old friend.(For the square "Online Meet Up" on my bingo card.)
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: PSon Fluff Bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733158
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	TopDown1967

Normally, Malcolm would never consider meeting a dom without having seen their face or looking into their basic background. Experience told him to be careful, and for once, he listened. He had initially called up an old dom of his from his college days, but it turned out that Trent’s schedule was quite full. The reluctance in his voice as he broke the news was comforting at least. They always did have fun together. Trent got to know him well enough to understand him and his needs, even if sometimes Malcolm wasn’t willing to admit just what those were. 

Most of the time, all it meant was cuddling. It had nothing to do with kink or libido. Malcolm never had trouble asking for something rough. It was the softer things he rarely voiced, and Trent was just as good at those as he was at fucking him into a mindless mess. He gave Malcolm the contact he craved. He listened. He was there for him. There was, and still is, trust between them.

Which is why Malcolm is even at the hole in the wall restaurant now, sitting in a weathered chair, the vinyl cracked and sewn back together by hand, his legs elegantly crossed at the knee. The location wasn’t his choice. Obviously. No, it was the choice of the man who would potentially be his new dom. Not knowing anything about this man other than his love of vintage cars and a rough age made him anxious, but Trent was the one to send Malcolm his online profile. He insisted this dom, listed as TopDown1967 on his page, his only picture a vintage car, was perfect for him. Apparently, he checked a lot of Malcolm’s boxes.

It took Malcolm nearly two months to finally give in and make an account. Another week passed before he messaged TopDown1967. Nothing too forward, just a basic mention of Trent’s recommendation and a summary of the kinds of things Malcolm typically needed out of his doms.

The next day, he had a reply. TopDown1967 laid out what he’s willing and not willing to do in detail. Then, he suggested they get to know each other through messages before trying to set up their initial meeting. Trent told him the basics about Malcolm — without giving away anything too private, of course — so it’s likely he knows about the less sexual side of their relationship. If they intended on making a lasting arrangement, he wrote, he preferred to know him better. 

Trent _did_ say this dom had the kind of attention to detail Malcolm needed. 

Malcolm idly smoothes out his pants. The dom didn’t tell him to wear anything specific and recognizable, because the table was reserved. Apparently he’s a regular. So, Malcolm dressed to match the tone TopDown1967 seemed to be setting today. His pullover is expensive but casual, his pants loose and comfortable. He even left his hair down and free of product. If only he felt as relaxed as his outfit. 

The bell above the door sounds, but the person who walks through is a woman. 

There’s still a good five minutes before they’re supposed to meet anyway. Malcolm’s early, that’s all. He bites his lip and takes a sip of his water, the icy condensation wetting his fingers and palm. 

The door opens again. 

Malcolm’s breath catches.

It’s Gil. 

Running into him out and about would be awkward enough now after yesterday’s mess of a case, where Malcolm, once again, pushed himself too far and nearly got himself hurt. Add TopDown1967 — a man around Gil’s age who made it clear he wouldn’t mind being Malcolm’s Daddy — into the mix, and this would be a _disaster_.

Of course, Gil sees him then. He stills at the door for a second before moving to the counter to talk to the old man behind it, smiling and joking and making small talk. 

Malcolm _almost_ relaxes. 

But Gil takes two plates from the man, stuffs a few bills in the tip jar, and makes his way right for Malcolm’s table.

The table TopDown1967 reserved. 

“Hey kid,” Gil says as he places one of the plates in front of Malcolm. “I got you something more mild.”

Malcolm ducks his head. “I can’t, I’m meeting someone —”

“I know.” The look he gives him is a meaningful one.

“ _Oh_.” Malcolm feels faint. He’s been talking to Gil online for weeks. He’s told him everything from the yoga routine he tries to keep up with to the contents of his toy chest. Worst of all, Gil knows _exactly_ what Malcolm’s type is now. 

“Trent didn’t tell me your name,” Gil reassures him. He picks up a fry from his plate and eats it idly. His lips twitch into an amused smile. “And you were good about hiding your identity online, Babyboi2010.”

Flushing, Malcolm picks at his own fries. “That’s the year I met Trent.” The year they started their arrangement, in fact. He hadn’t seen another dom until he got into the FBI. Combined with Trent being the only reason he made an account, it seemed fitting. 

Gil stretches out his legs under the table, his calf brushing up against one of Malcolm’s. “I can ask him to refer you to someone else,” he offers. 

Maybe it’s the contact, or maybe it’s the fact that Gil still approached him instead of walking away and messaging him to call the whole thing off without revealing himself, but he’s able to muster up enough courage to look him in the eyes and _try_. “And if I don’t want another referral?” His chest feels tight with the anticipation. 

Gil looks at him steadily. He eats another fry. “Then I’m here. I’m always here for you, kid.”

They don’t talk about it for the rest of the meal. They do talk about work, about Malcolm’s family, about the food — anything and everything they would talk about if this was a simple lunch. At the end of it, Malcolm even follows Gil out to his car for a ride back to the loft. 

He invites him up when they get there. “I’m not expecting anything,” he clarifies, practically tripping over his words. He isn’t. His fantasies have involved Gil quite often over the years, and really, he’s sure the only reason he _does_ lean towards older men is because of him, but that doesn’t mean that he’s ready to change their relationship like that so soon, either. 

Gil turns the engine off and gets out of the car. He looks at him over the top of the car. “I know,” he says and smiles reassuringly. He gives him his space on the way up the steps, but as soon as they’re inside, Malcolm awkward and unsure, he comes closer, his hands in his pants pockets. “Can I touch you?”

Malcolm swallows and nods. “Yeah.”

Wrapping an arm around him, Gil leads him to the couch, only pulling away to sit down and get comfortable. He pats the cushion next to him when he gets a blank look.

Hesitantly, Malcolm sits down next to him. 

Gil wraps his arm around his shoulders again and tugs him close.

And Malcolm lets himself melt into the touch, lets himself relax into his warmth, lets himself _enjoy_ it, because the trust is already there. He trusts Gil so damn much. No matter where this goes, he always will. 

He always has. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to Kate for enabling my love of fluff <3
> 
> And thank you to Sanyo for giving me Gil's screenname! <3


End file.
